


Four Seasons

by Sero_the_Writer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26950558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sero_the_Writer/pseuds/Sero_the_Writer
Summary: These are in fact four one-shots taking part in autumn, winter, spring and summer, multiple areas and multiple settings. Romance is not the main thing even though it's there if you know where to look! You will also find strong family ties and deep friendships. Contains no Cursed Child spoilers!





	1. Autumn Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes a walk with his daughter Lily.

The woods were shining in all colours of autumn, bright red, sunny yellow and golden brown, flecked here and there with the dark green of fir trees, as Harry Potter made his way along a seldom-used path across a hill in the vicinity of Godric's Hollow. A mild season with little wind and no storms had resulted in the majority of the trees retaining most of their leaves even this far into October. Harry breathed in the cold, clear autumn air, while enjoying the warm touch of the sunlight on his face. He wrapped his scarf more securely around his neck and turned around, watching Lily come up behind him. With Albus and James safely at Hogwarts, and Ginny off with some friends to watch a Quidditch match that promised to last at least one day, they had all of Saturday to themselves.

Harry smiled as he watched Lily bent down and pick several Morels. Lily had been beleaguering him for days to go out and collect mushrooms and nuts. She had gotten a wildlife book for her last birthday, including a guide to edible plants, herbs and mushrooms found in the wild and had been itching to try it out.

“Daddy, look,” Lily shouted, “my bag is almost full!”

“Well done, Lily,” Harry said, as she came running up to him. He knelt down and let Lily empty her bag into the bigger one he was levitating next to himself. He peered into it.

“Looks like we can cook a nice stew for Mummy tonight. She'll be hungry when she comes back from the match.”

“And caramelised chestnuts for dessert,” Lily said.

Harry smiled: “Okay.” Since he had tried out a recipe of caramelised wild chestnuts some years ago, autumn had become Lily's favourite season. This was something he shared with his daughter. Ever since his first year at Hogwarts, Harry had loved autumn. He had spend most of the summers of his late childhood and youth waiting for autumn to come, the time when he would return to Hogwarts.

He straightened up and watched Lily bound down the path towards the woods, excitedly kicking up colourful leaves as she went. He waited a bit before following her, letting his gaze travel along the rolling hills of Wales, enjoying the many coloured-view that presented itself to him. What would it have been like to grow up here with his parents instead of a London suburb with the Dursleys?

~*~

A soft wind was blowing when he reached the woods at the foot of the hill, making some leaves tumble down from the trees. Harry smiled at the gentle touch of a falling leaf on his head. The sun was sending shafts of light through the trees' branches, casting the whole forest into a spectacular light. Harry looked around for Lily. She was bent down again, probably collecting more nuts, her vivid red hair blending perfectly with the bright red on the bush behind her.

Harry strolled over to help her bag the nuts, his shoes crunching on the gravel path. But as he knelt down next to his daughter, he realised that she wasn't in fact picking up anything, leastways no nuts or mushrooms. Her hand was extended towards a black spider, inviting it to crawl onto her palm. Harry had to suppress a chuckle. Alone of his children, Lily was okay with spiders, even adored them. This was something else that he shared with his daughter. Having grown up in the cupboard under the stairs in the Dursley's house, Harry had been used to spiders from an early age on. Both his sons, it seemed, had inherited their uncle Ron's dislike and fear of arachnids and could not be persuaded to stay in close vicinity to spiders. Lily had found out early on that she could retaliate her brothers' teasing by chasing spiders onto them, so she had learned to befriend the creatures.

As Harry watched, the spider crawled willingly onto Lily's hand. This was a rare feat. Mostly, spiders would seek to avoid humans and the warmth of their skin. Lily, however, could pass almost as some sort of spider whisperer, a talent possessed by few witches and wizards.

Lily straightened up and held her hand out to Harry.

“Look, daddy, a female wolf spider.”

Harry bent down a bit, taking a closer look.

“This looks to me like one of the magical species. Do you see the characteristic brown and yellow pattern on its back?”

Lily looked closer, too. “Oh, yes, I see it.”

“This means she has an extended period of life, and probably some other powers as well. Some magical wolf spiders have been reported to make extraordinarily long jumps from time to time, almost like jumping spiders, to change colour according to mood, and their silk is reported to be twice as strong as that of a regular spider.”

Lily was getting excited. “Can I keep her, daddy, please?”

Harry smiled, and nodded. “Of course, Lils. But you need to take good care of her. She needs a cool and dark place to make her burrow, and you need to let her leave it if she wants to.”

Lily nodded solemnly, and looked at the spider on her hand, who seemed to look right back at her.

“I think I will name her Edda,” Lily said. She held her hand to her shoulder and Edda scuttled onto it, making herself at home underneath the rim of the hood of Lily's jacket.

“Hold on tight, Edda,” Lily said, and she started walking along the path through the woods, choosing the spots with the most fallen leaves on the ground to wade through.

Harry followed Lily, scanning the ground and undergrowth for more nuts and mushrooms, listening to her talk to Edda.

“You won't get to know my brothers until Christmas, because they're both at school”, Lily said. “I have to wait two more years”, she added bitterly. “But when they get home, you just wait, they won't be stealing any of my toys now, with you around to guard them.” She was silent for a while, wading through a particularly deep mount of leaves.

Harry caught up with Lily as she was fighting through the last bit of the mount and burst out of the other side.

“I'll build Edda a nice burrow”, Lily now said to Harry, walking next to him on the path. “With some leaves and sticks and stones from our garden.”

Harry smiled. “If you're trying to find a way to avoid having to clean all the mushrooms we collected...”

Lily frowned at him indignantly and said: “Of course not! But this is important. Edda will hunt at night, so she will need to rest before that.”

“I'll save you some mushrooms to scrub, then.” Harry teased her.

Lily just huffed indignantly at her father's apparent ignorance.

~*~

A little further on, they came by a sunlit clearing with a small grove of apple trees. Some apples were still hanging on the trees, and though slightly shrivelled,they looked to still be edible.

“Let's pick some of those apples,” Harry suggested. Autumn apples, when having survived the drop of temperature while still hanging on the tree, had a unique taste that Harry liked very much.

Lily followed him onto the clearing, and Harry lifted her up to sit on his shoulders, so that she could reach the upper branches. They worked in unison for a few silent moments and had soon each collected a handful. Harry let Lily down again.

“How about an apple each right now?” Harry asked his daughter, and Lily nodded her agreement enthusiastically. They had been walking for a while, and both were a bit thirsty. They took two apples from the bag and polished them on their trousers. They left the clearing happily munching, but Harry pulled a face soon after. “Urgh, I think mine's got a worm in it.”

“Give it here, Daddy. Edda will like that,” Lily immediately said.

Harry pulled a pocket-knife from his pocket and cut away the wormy piece of apple, handing it to Lily. He watched, fascinated, as his daughter put the piece of apple onto her shoulder. Edda came out from underneath Lily's hood as soon as Lily had let go of the apple. Instead of cutting out the worm, however, the spider seemed to suck the liquid out of the surrounding piece of apple.

“Oh, look, she's quite thirsty, too”, said Lily.

On they went, opening their coats and unwinding their scarves as they strode along, for it was warmer underneath the cover of the trees than it had been on top of the hills. Occasionally they bent down, picking up more mushrooms and nuts. Before they reached the other side of the forest, Lily had emptied her bag once more into Harry's. On this side of the forest there was a small village, where Harry knew of a nice café that they sometimes visited. Before walking out of the trees, he terminated the levitating charm on the bag full of mushrooms and nuts and instead picked it up by hand. It wouldn't do to attract Muggle attention with a floating bag, no matter how heavy the bag was by now.

“How about a hot chocolate, Lils?” Harry asked, panting a bit.

“Oh, yes, with some whipped cream on top!” Lily exclaimed.

“That's decided then.” Harry commented, and steered towards the village.

~*~

They had soon reached the café, where Harry gratefully dropped the bag of mushrooms and nuts next to a small table on the front terrace. They both sat down and read the menu, the sun warming the back of their heads. When the waitress came, Harry and Lily ordered a hot chocolate with whipped cream for Lily, a tea for Harry, and some scones with jam and even more cream to share. Then Harry looked at Lily.

“Lily,” he said, “many Muggles are afraid of spiders, just like your brothers. So it would be a good idea for Edda to stay hidden underneath the hood of your coat until we leave the café.”

Lily nodded, but insisted on giving Edda one more piece of apple to drink from.

Soon they each had a steaming mug standing in front of them and were munching happily on the scones.

“Daddy,” Lily said, with a frown on her face, “is Al really friends with Scorpius Malfoy?”

They had received the news earlier that week, in a very indignant letter from James. Being surrounded by the large Weasley family, all of his children had grown up with some amount of scepticism (bordering on dislike in James's case) where Malfoys were concerned. Harry sighed. He would probably never consider Draco Malfoy his friend, but he also hadn't forgotten what he had seen of Draco during those outlawed months of Horcrux hunting. Draco might have boasted about his mission during their sixth year, thinking of himself as rather more important than he was. But he had not killed Dumbledore, would not have, and he had not been happy as a Death Eater and torturer in Voldemort's service.

“It's true.” he said. “And it's good. If Scorpius can befriend Al, that means that he is nicer and more open-minded than his father was at that age. And that can only be good.”

Lily nodded solemnly, considering this. “Yes, then he is really different,” she said. She drank from her chocolate and then stirred the remaining contents of her cup for a while.

“Will Scorpius come to our house with Al then?” she finally asked. “I mean, for the holidays? James won't like it much if he does,” she added.

Harry grinned. “Then it's time for James to learn to like it,” he said. “Scorpius is welcome in our house, if he wants to visit.” He downed his tea, and got up. “I will get the bill, and then we can go home.”

~*~

The way home took them through the fields of the Muggle farmers around Godric's Hollow. Lily was busy with her new spider pet, and Harry's thoughts strolled back to his past, and then to his children. It would indeed be a good thing if Scorpius came to visit them. And if Al went to visit him. Harry had no intention to pass on his feud to his children. If Al and Scorpius became friends, then everyone would understand that the divide was over. Then they would truly get over the past.

With that comforting thought in mind, they turned a corner in the lane, and their house came into view. But first, Harry thought with a contend smile, he would cook a great mushroom stew and caramelised chestnuts for his wife and daughter.


	2. White Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva McGonagall does her Christmas shopping.

Snow was falling. Fluffy flakes floated gently to the ground, coming to rest on the already hard and sticky white street, peppering witches’ and wizards’ hats and cloaks and making the little town look like a painting on a Christmas card. The snow crunched under the feet of passers-by, on their way to the Three Broomsticks for a cup of tea, or else heading for Honeydukes to do some last Christmas shopping. Children were hopping around their parents in a fruitless pursuit of snowflakes, their laughter echoing far along the High Street. The whole town radiated peace and Christmas spirit.

Minerva McGonagall strode down the street, a rare smile showing in the corners of her mouth and deepening the wrinkles around her eyes, underlining the beauty of age. Term had ended the day before and most students had gone home to their families. Christmas holidays at Hogwarts were almost always quiet and deserted. Minerva had always loved Christmas. Since childhood, this time of year had meant relaxation, peace, homely comfort, and time for herself and those that matter most. Nowadays, with most of her family dead and her being Head of Gryffindor House, she always stayed at Hogwarts, watching over the few Gryffindors that stayed at the school and enjoying her free time. Few would believe that the responsible, hard-working and controlled Professor McGonagall could lean back and put up her feet. But there was such a thing as a break, and even the most committed teachers knew how to value it.

~*~

So here she was. Having no more essays to mark or classes to prepare, Minerva McGonagall could finally put her heart into Christmas shopping. Not that there were many of whom she had to think. Her only family was her sister, who lived a little further south and was usually happy with a visit and a bottle of Glenfiddich Single Malt Whisky. Then there was Albus Dumbledore. She’d always given him a book, but that had grown into a challenge over the years. Dumbledore was now in the possession of every classic imaginable, and Minerva was forced to consult others to avoid accidentally giving the same as someone else. This year, though, she had come across a rarely known Australian author, Wendelin Wright. He had written a detailed volume about the history of witches and wizards in Australia, both migrants from Wizarding Britain and their magical counterparts in the Aboriginal society. The result was an interesting dissertation of the science and application of magic in Australia, which had been mentioned in a sub-clause in a review about a completely different book in the Daily Prophet.

Minerva only wished she could be as happy with her other presents. Custom demanded that the Heads of houses at Hogwarts exchanged presents at Christmas. Albus Dumbledore was unconventional and eccentric in many ways, but he had insisted on this particular tradition. Minerva sighed. Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, was the easiest: a rare or exotic plant always made her happy. Minerva had taken a secret stroll through the greenhouses one night to find out what might be missing in Sprout’s collection. She had then consulted the Encyclopaedia of Rare Plants and their Magical Properties and ordered a rare, cactus-like plant called Mimbulus Mimbletonia which had to be flown in from Assyria via owl post. Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw, was little more of a challenge. He and Minerva were long friends and she knew what would make him happy: She had gotten him a self-serving tea service on her last visit to Hogsmeade, and had added some Ceylon tea and Scottish short bread to which she knew he was prone. But when she tried to think of a present for Severus Snape, their youngest Head of house, her mind went oddly blank. No matter how often she mentally checked his personality, she couldn’t think of anything appropriate at all. He was brilliant at Potions, but being less practised in the field herself, she couldn’t think of any book or ingredient that Severus might want. Apart from that, there was only one other interest that she knew of, and that was the Dark Arts and the Defence against it. But in light of Albus’s annual refusal to assign Severus as professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, any present of that realm would probably be seen as mocking. And not only that this present was the most difficult to find, it also was the most important to give. Slytherin and Gryffindor were deadlocked in an ancient feud, and for the Head of Gryffindor to give something inappropriate to the Head of Slytherin would probably result in a breaking of their careful truce.

She pushed that particular present out of her mind for the time being and directed her crunching steps towards Honeydukes. She pushed the door open, causing a soft tinkling sound to emit from the doorbell, and entered the sweetshop, which greeted her with a waft of sugary warmth. She brushed some of the snowflakes from her shoulders and feet before stepping further into the shop, not wanting them to melt and wet her robes or the shop floor.  
She still had two other presents to think of, after all, and this was the best place to get something for Poppy Pomfrey, the round matron of Hogwarts. She had been at Hogwarts as long as Minerva had, and while the two witches were the complete opposites in many respects, their shared commitment to Hogwarts’ students had drawn them together over the years.  
She stepped past a family huddled around the shelves containing chocolates and up to the counter, where she was greeted by Ambrosius Flume, the round-bellied owner of Honeydukes: “Good morning Minerva! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”  
Minerva allowed herself a smile at his enthusiastic greeting. Ambrosius was a pleasant fellow.  
“Good morning Ambrosius. What else but Christmas presents to some committed friends could have brought me here?”  
Ambrosius smiled back, knowing that Minerva herself preferred cookies to candies, and so was a rare visitor to his shop.  
“Well, then you have chosen the right place to come,” he said. “For whom may I offer you something?”  
“Poppy Pomfrey. I think she is very prone to your home-made fudge.”  
“That’s right, that’s right. Comes here to get some every so often. Would you like me to get you a collection of our best fudge? Very fresh, just produced yesterday, including some tastes I can promise Poppy never tried before.”  
Minerva nodded: “That would be nice.”  
Ambrosius picked up a paper back and came around the counter. “Term is over then, I take it?” he asked conversationally.  
Minerva followed him to the shelves filled with fudge. “Yes, most students left yesterday.”  
“You’ll be enjoying the quiet for a change, I guess,” Ambrosius said, directing different kinds of colourful fudge into the bag with his wand.  
“Yes, it is a rather nice change every once in a while,” Minerva agreed.  
“And how is little Harry Potter doing?” asked Ambrosius, as he walked back to the counter. Like most of the wizarding community, he was very curious about Harry Potter. The boy had started his first term at Hogwarts that year, and Minerva had been very proud to see him sorted into Gryffindor. But she was cautious when answering questions about this extraordinary pupil of hers. Albus had warned everyone multiple times that Harry Potter still had numerous enemies.  
“He is fitting in well; he got sorted into Gryffindor,” she answered, careful to keep her voice empty of emotion, “and he’s proven his worth.”  
Ambrosius put the bag on the counter and whirled his wand about it. The bag sealed itself, a sparkling red and gold gift ribbon wrapped itself about it, and several twinkling stars appeared on the bags surface. “That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he muttered, concentrated on his work. He then handed the bag to Minerva and received her money in return. “Well, I’m sure you’ve selected the right thing here,” he said.  
“Thank you very much, Ambrosius,” Minerva answered before leaving the shop again.

~*~

Once back outside on the snowy High Street she turned towards Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, hoping she would find the present she was looking for. Septima Vector, Professor for Arithmancy at Hogwarts, had become dear to Minerva. The complicated calculations that were the subject of Arithmancy formed the basis for many complex transfigurations. Arithmancy was therefore a subject that Minerva took great interest in. For the last decade, she and Septima had worked together on research in Transfiguration and had a number of articles published in Transfiguration Today. Minerva had few close friends of the like of Septima Vector: Even though she was about fifteen years older than the Arithmancy professor, she found that she could talk to Septima about magical scientific issues like she could to Albus. But Septima and Minerva shared more than a research interest. They also believed in the same approach to teaching, and, coming from Ireland, Septima was as prone to a glass of good whisky at the end of the day as Minerva was. Over the years, they had established the habit to share a glass or two on the weekend nights, and since then their friendship had gained something deeper.

Now Minerva was looking for a manual calculator that could deal with more complex calculations. She imagined it to be a handy tool for Septima, both for teaching and for their research. Her only worry was that Scrivenshaft’s, who specialised in writing supplies, would lack calculating instruments. But she needn’t have worried. Once inside the shop, a quick look around led her straight to a corner dedicated to Arithmancy. There were several numerological charts on display, alongside some geometrical objects. Her eyes momentarily hung on a perfect, translucent cube with huge dimensions, then slid over a scaled, adjustable triangle. Finally, she saw them: several manual calculators were set on a shelf above the geometrical objects, the smallest only covering addition and subtraction, the biggest designed to calculate radicals and derivatives. She selected one of the biggest, a fine brass instrument with small golden numbers, and carefully carried it to the counter.  
“Good day to you, Professor McGonagall,” greeted the witch behind the counter. “And this would be for your research?” she added, her eyes on the calculator.  
Minerva shook her head: “No, this is for a friend who is interested in Arithmancy.”  
“Ah, Christmas shopping,” the witch said. “Would you like me to wrap it?”  
“Yes, please,” Minerva answered.  
“That makes seven Galleons and fifteen Sickles then, please.”  
Minerva handed over the gold and silver and watched as the witch drew her wand and started tapping the brass calculator. Beautiful wrappings appeared, decorated with entwined numbers, and bound by a black silk ribbon.  
Minerva inwardly smiled as she picked the parcel up. “Thank you very much.”

She stepped out onto the street, levitating the bag with the parcels in front of her. It had stopped snowing, and a watery sun was trying to fight its way through the clouds. It was still rather cold, though: the rim of Minerva’s cloak was getting damp from the snow, and her nose felt icy as her misty breath hung in the air around her head. She decided to stop by the Three Broomsticks and warm with a cup of tea. There was no use in catching a cold, and in any case, she needed more time to think of a present for Severus.

~*~

The doorbell tinkled as she stepped into the pub. Several little tables were occupied, either by small groups or individuals, engulfed in a book or else watching their fellow customers. Most were having an early lunch or late breakfast. Minerva slowly made her way to the counter, carefully levitating her bag over the heads of several seated witches and wizards and letting it drop into a barstool. Madam Rosmerta came to greet her.  
“Minerva, my dear, what a pleasant surprise! What can I get you?”  
“Hello Rosmerta. Could you bring me some tea, please,” Minerva asked. “Oh, and could you add some of your home-made scones?” she added as an afterthought.  
Rosmerta smiled and set to work, setting the water boiling with a flick of her wand and summoning some scones from her kitchen. “Christmas shopping tends to be a tiresome business, doesn’t it?” she said, with a glance at Minerva’s bag.  
Minerva nodded. “It can be rather challenging, finding the right presents.” She tried not to worry too much about Severus. “Has Albus reserved a table yet?” she asked instead. It was custom for the staff of Hogwarts to have tea together in the Three Broomsticks on Christmas Eve. Rosmerta knew this, of course, but it was prudent to reserve a table anyway.  
“Oh yes, you’ll be nine this year, I take it?”  
Minerva nodded. The headmaster and the heads of houses were usually joined by Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid (and sometimes by Mr. Filch and Madam Pince). Then they were also occasionally accompanied by other members of the staff who chose to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays (except Sybil Trelawney, who was simply... different, in most respects).  
“Well, I put you at the table in the back room in any case, so that you will have some privacy,” smiled Rosmerta, handing over the tea and the scones.

~*~

When she was seated at a nice little table next to the window, a cup of steaming Earl Grey and several scones in front of her, Minerva turned her thoughts back to finding a present for Severus Snape. She let her gaze wander through the pub, absently sipping on her tea. Rosmerta was standing at the bar, serving butterbeer to some middle-aged wizards who looked as though they had escaped their wives’ Christmas shopping tour. Then the beer tabs caught her eye and she frowned, turning that possibility over in her head. She supposed that she could give Severus some alcohol; not beer, but a fine mead or wine. It was an option, and she knew she would return to it if she couldn’t think of anything else. But she wished she could give him something a little more personal than that, something comparable to her presents for Pomona and Filius. She continued to gaze around the pub, and then she saw it! Stacked against the back wall of the pub were several bottles of wine, sorted into a wooden wine rack that looked like a test tube holder used for Potions experiments. That was the perfect idea: She would get Severus a wooden test tube holder for his Potions experiments! She was sure he had several already, but a fine oak or ash holder, highly polished and charmed to repel liquids of any kind... that was the perfect gift! She mused over it for a while, fingering her cup of tea. She would have to go to Woodcraft and Wizardry's, a shop that specialised in wooden magical artefacts. That meant she would have to go to Diagon Alley. Sighing, she drained the remains of her tea, got up, waved her packages in the air again with her wand and left the pub.

Not wanting to carry the parcels to Diagon Alley and back, she fluidly drew her wand and rapped it on her gift bag once, which immediately became indistinguishable against the background of snowy white. She murmured a complicated charm that would enable it to penetrate Hogwarts’ current security measures and then sent the whole thing off towards her office with a wave of her wand.  
She turned and walked briskly towards the end of the High Street where it led towards Hogsmeade station. Some might pass it off as an irksome convention, but Minerva had been brought up to always walk clear of a town or private premises before Apparating. So she walked several steps past the last houses before she turned on the spot and vanished into suffocating darkness.

~*~

She opened her eyes to the murky backyard of the Leaky Cauldron. What had been fluffy white snow in Hogsmeade resembled a grey dirty mash in the corners of the yards in London. Minerva sighed: having been raised in the Scottish high lands, she had never much liked big cities. She quickly stepped up to the rear wall of the yard and tapped the required combination on its brick stones that would enable her to escape this gloomy forecourt of Diagon Alley. As the magical gateway opened up before her, Minerva realised that it had probably been a bad idea to do her Christmas shopping on a Saturday. Diagon Alley was packed with people. Hunching her shoulders instinctively and drawing her features into a slightly disapproving expression, intended to guarantee her an unhindered passage, she stepped into the street. The cobblestones were slick with greyish mash, the beautiful crunching sound of the countryside transformed into an ugly squelch. The hem of her cloak would be more than wet. Minerva suppressed a sigh, she would have to lay it out for the house-elves to take to the laundry.  
Jostled by the crowd, she finally reached Woodcraft and Wizardry’s. Eager to escape the crowded and slick street, Minerva stepped into the shop. She shouldn’t have bothered, though, as the shop was as crowded as the street outside, and, thanks to the many carelessly worn boots, almost as slick. Offering a wide range of wooden artefacts that ranged from toys to joke-items, from every-day tools to highly specialised merchandise, Woodcraft and Wizardry’s was a popular destination for all kinds of Christmas shoppers. Minerva towered over most of the other customers, and was thus able to find the corner devoted to Potions quickly. Between wooden scales and cutting-boards that repelled most ingredients, she found a small stack of test tube holders. The cheapest were pine, not charmed to repel liquids at all or having less quality charms that evaporated over time. But there were also a few expensive versions of ash, oak and the like. Minerva selected a beautiful ebony one with a charm that she knew wouldn’t dwindle over time. She then queued up in front of the counter, nose slightly raised above the bulk of other customers. She already longed to breathe the clean air of the Scottish countryside again.

Ten minutes later, Minerva stepped back into Diagon Alley. It was now past noon, and, having procured the most difficult present, she decided to return to Hogwarts for lunch. Intend on delivering her precious present to her private chambers as soon as possible, she headed to Flourish & Blott's, who offered one of Diagon Alley's Floo connections. This would enable her to be transported straight into her office. There was no queue here; obviously, most shoppers planned on longer trips to Diagon Alley and weren’t headed back home just yet. This suited Minerva, who had always nursed a dislike for crowds. She secured her present inside her cloak, took a pinch of the powder on the shelve above the fireplace and threw it into the flames which turned green almost at once. She stepped forwards and gave the required authorisation to be transported to her office. This was only possible for certain individuals, all of whom had been selected by herself. Unannounced visitors were not a welcome sight in her private domain.  
She arrived in her office seconds later. Before stepping out of the fire, Minerva brushed off her cloak, as she didn’t like to have ashes on her carpet. She then crossed the room to the bookshelf that concealed the entrance to her chambers and gave it the password. The shelf swung back, revealing a rather small room with a narrow bed facing a window that looked out over the snow-covered grounds. A wardrobe stood at the other wall, next to a small door leading to an enclosed bathroom. A small bedside table stood on the other side of the bed, a wooden clothes valet next to it. Apart from that, the room was empty. Minerva walked to the wardrobe and opened it. She undressed and folded her cloak and robe on the floor next to the door, so that the house-elves would take it to the laundry. She then picked another robe from her wardrobe with which she disappeared into her bathroom, feeling that this last present had cost her quite enough. She looked forward to enjoying the quiet of Hogwarts for a couple of days and seeing Septima for a glass of whisky later.


End file.
